


Surplus Sherlock.

by Beth_Can_Write



Category: Sherlock (TV), The Declaration
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 07:17:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beth_Can_Write/pseuds/Beth_Can_Write
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock isn't a surplus but after being taken through many surplus houses he finally meets someone interesting, Surplus John. Valuable asset, John Watson is a surplus, nearly his whole life he's been a surplus and he knows how things go. But with a new and interesting boy there what's to stop him from straying a little?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surplus Sherlock.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been told I should add a bit more about what suplus' mean.   
> The book (the decleration) is set in the future, everyone has a 'longevity pill' basically - you can't die. But soon, over population becomes a problem so everyone is limited to one child. Then children are banned unless you 'opt out'. no-one opts out, it means giving up your right to take the pill. A surplus is an illegal child, when they get to sixteen they go out and work in the household of legals. Legals think they have a diving right and children ruin everything, everyone is suspicious. In the book it's about two particular surplus', I won't spoil it but it's a really good buy!  
> 'valuable asset' means a good, obient little worker who, when 16, will make a valuable slave., good asset for the surplus hall to have them, more legals take surplus' off their hands then.   
> Surplus' aren't allowed to take the pill when they reach 16, they wither and die. Many babies are wrongly placed in surplus halls, hthey are legal but the government wants to keep kids off the streets - crime rate has seriously decreased and people aren't scared like that are now - so they mark them down as illegal.   
> They're really harsh in these places.

His hair was dark and curled atop his pale, alabaster skin. His hands were shackled to the table and he screamed in pain as they beat him senseless.  
His verdigris eyes stared up at the man enforcing all this pain, Mr. Moriarty. His hair was scraped back and his eyes scorched the boy. “Don’t look at me, filthy surplus.” He almost spat the words and Sherlock instinctively raised his head higher.

“I’m not a surplus! My mother was an opt out for me, my father was one for my brother. Just ask him, his name is Mycroft Holmes, he works with the government.” That warranted a slap that left a dark red mark across the young boys face. 15 was an unusual age to be caught being a surplus and, after spending two years in this place he realised why his brother kept him out of the public eye. Of course he was legal, but people were always hesitant of the young now that everyone was old.

“How dare you make such remarks, you can’t possibly be related to someone from the government. Where did you come from?” Mr. Moriartys eyes narrowed and, had Sherlock not been in such agonising pain, he may have been able to see his eyebrow quiver. Mycrofts search from his brother had been given up on two weeks after it had started and now he sat here with a cocky 17 year old claiming to be him? It couldn’t be happening. “2 years and you only now wish to mention that your brother is with the government, if that story is even true.” 

“It is, ring him up and ask—“ Another slap to the face.

“Mr. Holmes is a very busy man and you, surplus, are not worth his time.” Someone walked in with a needle at that moment, filled with a vial and Sherlock's eyes were immediately drawn to it. 

“Sedative. Fine, put me to sleep but my brother will find me, he promised!” Sherlock shouted, his body moving against the tight shackles that kept his wrists and ankles in place. Then the needle was in his arm, his body relaxed instantly put his eyes were wide awake and alert. He could see a file on the table and read, ‘stem cell program’, before eventually the liquid got the best of him and he felt to be drowning under the venom coursing through his face.

He fell into a deep sleep.

~oOo~

“We have a new surplus today, surplus Sherlock.” This was the fifth establishment Sherlock had been to now and his eyes scanned the room, no-one seemed bright, no-one seemed to be particularly challenging. There were three legal’s there that were accidently branded as surplus’ and carted off, only one knew.  
His eyes were drawn to a boy at the front, so much so that he didn’t notice the command to take a seat and was promptly pushed into a table at the front. He stood up again, his hands brushing the dust off his clothes; somehow the drab, grey uniform seemed smarter on him than any of the others.

“Now, before the new surplus interrupted us,” Sherlock got a glare from the lady at the front, the teacher, “We were talking about longevity. We were talking about why respectable members of society, like me and all the legals, get to take the tablet, while vermin, such as sewer rats and yourselves can’t. Anyone care to elaborate?” Hands shot up and she searched the room for someone with the right answer

Sherlock despised being called a sewer rat so he raised his head and looked the lady in the eyes, first mistake. “We can’t take it because you monsters,” second mistake, “have managed to fuck,” third mistake, “up society enough. The government has twisted everything to make us seem bad, it’s unnatural for you to live forever,” fourth mistake, “and us, who are meant to be rejuvenating the world, die.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes after speaking. He’d broken four offences in that one speech alone. 1. Never look a legal in the eyes. 2. Never direct any word other than ‘legal’ to a legal. 3. Never swear in front of a legal. 4. Never call longevity unnatural.

Not to mention the most vital rule, never speak unless asked to do so directly. 

The lady at the front stormed forward and took Sherlock's ear, “Right, boy, I’m pretty sure you know what a cane is?” she shouted. 

As Sherlock was dragged to the front he looked around, many of the Surplus’ still had their hands up, waiting to be called on and not expecting an outburst like that. This was clearly a boring place. 

The one boy who seemed to be taking an interest was the one his eyes were drawn to immediately. His eyes were blue and curious as he watched Sherlock. They weren’t filled with hatred as the others were, probably because Sherlock just cost them their dinner time, they were filled with curiosity. Something, almost a smile, broke out. It was just a twitch of the lips but the teacher seemed to notice.

“Surplus John!” She shouted after caning Sherlock five times across the hands.

The boys head went down again and he stood up, “Yes, Miss Adler?” he asked, keeping his eyes tracing the grain of wood on the floor.

“You are a valuable asset, or you will be, so I hate to do this but was that a smile?” The boy shook his head, “And that was a lie. 5 lashing for you too, Sherlock, take your seat.” Sherlock slumped back to his seat, his eyes keenly fixed on the surplus, who he now knew was called John, and his eyes sparkled.

John walked to the front gloomily and took the five hits to the palm of his hand. For the rest of the lesson both boys remained silent, their hands palm down on the cool wood, as if it would help the stinging, as everyone else answered the questions around them.

~oOo~

“We all sleep here?” Sherlock asked, a frown on his face. The shock on the workers face was evident but Sherlock knew she wouldn’t give him the cane, she had a soft spot for kids. 

“Yes, now don’t talk to legals like that, you’ll get beaten.” She said sadly.

“Have you seen this place? All the rules? I do one thing and I’ll get beaten.” He grumbled as he sunk onto the bed, all the other boys in the dorm watching him.

“Molly!” A voice screeched from down the hallway. The worker instantly walked out, shooting an apologetic look at Sherlock.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and waited for the onslaught. Within a minute, going by the watch that was imprinted on his wrist, all of the boys were crowding around his bed except the one that got the cane just after him.

“Freak, you cost us our lunch.” One of them grunted, pushing the bed with his foot, Sherlock barely moved and this seemed to rattle him further.

“Shut up, Anderson.” Another boy said, “John is the one who really had to pay, and you don’t like him so what does it matter to you?”

Sherlock opened his mouth, his eyes glinting, “It matter to Anderson because he has a superiority complex. He was bought here when he was, oh I’d say five. His mother used to boss him around and now, all he’s doing is bossing everyone else around. It makes him feel better. How did John pay?” 

All the boys mouths were hanging open, “Mike was saying that John paid, because of you might I add, because John has had to do cleaning out in the drive way. Have you seen the weather? It’s rainy and, he’s going to come in soaking.” Anderson said.

“What does it matter to you?” The boy, who Sherlock presumed was called Mike, asked Anderson, “You hate him.”

Sherlock didn’t listen to anything else they said, instead he got up and began to walk out of the room.

“Where are you going?” Anderson groaned, “I want food tomorrow.”

“It’s the law that they have to give us a meal at least every two days, I know that from my brother and, if they don’t feed any of you tomorrow then you all have the right to challenge them. I am going outside to help John clean up, the sooner he gets done the sooner he is in the warmth and he seems to be much more interesting than you.”


End file.
